


Transmundane

by nefarious_irusu



Series: One-Word Prompts [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Comfort, Cutting, Depression, Gen, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, Injury, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, One Shot, One Word Prompts, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Short One Shot, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 03:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15258021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefarious_irusu/pseuds/nefarious_irusu
Summary: He was as transmundane as Viktor, floating somewhere outside his broken frame.





	Transmundane

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic depictions of cutting/self-harm.

All the emotions he swallowed down built up after a while, no matter how practiced he was at convincing himself that he didn't need to feel. With each bout of sadness he pushed down and twisted into anger or resentment, a crack appeared in the thin casing of his skin, his fragile shell. The cracks became spiderwebs, intricately swirling around each curve of his skin until he was practically vibrating from the force of his repressed thoughts, until he could hold back the tsunami no longer.

He would always try to leave, by whatever means necessary. An explosion of anger at something so small, or a flimsy excuse of feeling ill. He would try to make it back to his bedroom at Lilia’s before he shattered completely, though he didn't always succeed. Some days, he would make it to the bathroom in the corner store on his way home. Other times, he wouldn't get any further from the locker room at the rink. But, it always began the same.

Sometimes, he wished he was actually as irrelevant and invisible as he felt. Out of the public eye and out of the scrutinizing gazes of his coach and his senior skaters. As he crashed down onto the locker room floor with his head in his hands, he was grateful that for the moment, he was truly alone.

Silence consumed him not long after, his ears ringing from how deafening it had become. The blades scraping on the ice filled his ears periodically as a door in the hall would open and close, sharp and stuttering in his mind. He gasped each time he heard the sound, unable to control the embarrassing noise from bubbling up.

There was a clock nearby, it must have been the one in Yakov’s office. He had never noticed it before, but the monotonous ticking began to hurt his brain. _Tick, tock. Tick, tock_. Yuri's hands moved from his head down to his wrists, scraping at the worn skin. _Tick, tock. Tick, tock_. Yuri bit down on his lower lip until iron filled his mouth.

Yuri was reaching for his duffel bag before he could stop himself, digging around at the bottom for the secret he knew he would find. His hands trembled as he pulled out the towel, rolled up perfectly into a little fabric scroll. He shook it out in one sudden motion, scrambling for the small glint of metal as it fell to the tile floor.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this at all, much less in the locker room of the ice rink, but he couldn't stop himself. He whined softly as he gripped the blade, hard enough that the corner dug into the palm of his hand and created a little crevice of crimson.

Everything under his skin was furious and bubbling, and Yuri himself was vibrating with a mixture of fear and anticipation. As he sliced into his skin, blood surfaced and began to drip out, and some of that pent-up emotion flowed out with it. Yuri gasped softly as he cut into himself again, watching the blood form in little dots across his wrist before developing into a thin line. 

_Drip, drop. Tick, tock_. Time didn't still as Yuri watched his fluids dot the floor, a sporadic game of connect the dots that drew no picture. _Drip, drop. Tick, tock._ Time had slowed down for Yuri, and this time he pressed down even harder as the blade touched his skin. _Drip, drip, drip_. He knew he had to stop, but his brain was still screaming at him to go on. There was still so much dancing underneath his skin; it needed to be released.

“Yura, I thought you’d gone h-"

Viktor was nothing if transmundane, his figure haloed by the sharp, fluorescent lights. Yuri reached up to him, expecting his hand to push right through the figment that he saw. Vision blurry and Viktor transparent, he must be imagining. He was finally irrelevant, he was finally alone.

“Yura,” Viktor whispered as Yuri gasped, his hand meeting Viktor’s. He wasn't a figment- he had found him, he was real. Yuri didn’t realize that he had begun to cry until Viktor's free hand swiped gently at his cheeks. “Yura, how long has this been going on?”

Too long. Yuri shook his head as Viktor let go of his hand, standing and pulling the first aid kit from the storage cabinet. Yuri remained silent as Viktor patched him up, taking care to tend to each wound as if another didn't follow. Time slowed, but the clock still ticked at a steady pace. The sound of gauze and bandages cut into the beat, only broken by Viktor's erratic breathing.

“I'm sorry,” Yuri finally said, though at no will of his own. He was as transmundane as Viktor, floating somewhere outside his broken frame.

“Shh,” Viktor soothed him as he finished up, shoving the first aid kit away from them. “It's okay.”

Yuri only came back into his body when strong arms wrapped around it. He found himself clinging to Viktor in return, tightly enough that his wounded arms began to sting from the ferocity of the hold. “I'm sorry,” he repeated.

“So am I,” was the answer he received. “I'm sorry that I didn't notice, Yura.”

Yuri's throat was too tight to respond, so he only went limp in Viktor's hold. He buried his face in the older man's chest, exhausted from the episode he had experienced. _Ba-dum, ba-dum. Ba-dum, ba-dum_. A heartbeat was soothing while a ticking clock torturous, and Yuri felt himself beginning to slip away. His outer shell was gone now, but it would soon rebuild. Maybe this time, Viktor would be there so that the cycle wouldn't have to repeat.


End file.
